


Rescue

by CaricatureOfAWitch



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, This probably makes little sense but I tried, written for ladyofmidgard's Tumblr project for Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 12:14:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6005494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaricatureOfAWitch/pseuds/CaricatureOfAWitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Avengers have gone missing. Loki is not amused about the disappearance of his not-quite-allies-or-friends-but-not-enemies-either (he spends most of his time on Midgard annoying them, that's all) and seeks help to realise his rescue mission plan. Just, the only one who'd be willing to help is possibly the most annoying creature in all the Nine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rescue

**Author's Note:**

> A few things up front: This story disregards everything that happened after “The Avengers”. Deadpool is in here because he's Deadpool and shows up wherever he wants, and also because snark reasons. Loki lives in Avengers Tower, basically – at least when he's on Midgard, which isn't actually all that often. Don't question it, the Avengers don't either, they've given up.  
> This was written for the Secret Valentine's exchange project organised by ladyofmidgard on Tumblr. So, escapedgrandmafromanursinghome, I hope you like your gift! <3

**Rescue**

 

Loki Odinson, Son of Laufey – nobody who valued their health at all would start a discussion about surnames with him, – was entirely unimpressed with the strange, masked mortal in front of him. Not that that meant much. He had seen his fair share of strange, masked mortals, and he had been less than impressed by pretty much all of them. Captain America was an innocent puppy, Victor von Doom belonged in what the mortals called a “loony bin” (preferably the medieval version), and he had never met a self-proclaimed genius who spouted as much nonsense as Tony Stark did. Masked mortals were, as a general rule, ridiculous and barely worth his time.

As it was, the particular specimen that had originally introduced itself (himself, humans weren't insects, technically) as something called a dead pool was likely to be the worst of them all. Unfortunately, he could not afford to be selective under the current circumstances. Time was short, and e highly doubted that any of Midgard's “heroes” of less questionable morals would be inclined to work with him, even if he cared to seek one of them out and ask. Which he most assuredly did not, as it was likely to prove a tremendous waste of precious time.

 

Although, if he was honest, speaking to this one so far seemed no less of a waste either.

“Why do _I_ have to be the bait? I didn't come here to play a worm on a fish hook.”

Loki grit his teeth, well aware that his pleasant smile had by now frozen on his features and likely looked not very pleasant at all anymore, if it ever had.

“I assure you that that is not part of my plan, Mr Wilson. Although I have no qualms about arranging such if it should please me. The idea is becoming more and more appealing.”

He enjoyed, for a moment, the notion of his interlocutor looking a tad worried at the thought of dangling from a fishing rod with a hook sticking through any unpleasant body part of Loki's choosing. Of course no such thing was visible through the red and black mask covering the entirety of Wilson's face, but it was nice to imagine it anyway.

“You're no fun. You sure you wanna be working with me?”

“No,” Loki said blandly. “I do not. Alas, you seem to be my only available option at present. If you continue with this tomfoolery, however, I shall do it by myself.” Which the imbecile in front of him had previously objected to quite vehemently, though Loki had seen no particular reason for that. Wilson had very little to gain from helping him in this, if anything. He suspected the main incitement was that the man very much enjoyed grating on other people's nerves and apparently had now attempted to do so with the Avengers for a while, to no avail. If he helped with this… the Avengers would likely be too righteous to ignore him further.

Loki wondered, for a moment, if he should feel sorry for them in that case, but ultimately decided against it.

Wilson's mask twitched a few times, indicating changing facial expressions behind it that Loki didn't care to make out. He had gotten the impression that he regularly held more or less silent conversations with people that weren't, in fact, present (or even existent), and Loki had no desire to be introduced to a mortal's hallucinations.

After a few moments which had the god clenching his teeth in an attempt to suppress his impatience, the lower half of the mask moved in a way that hinted towards a wide grin. “I'm in. Let's roll!”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Steve had the vague feeling that someone had clobbered him over the head with… something. Something hard, if the pain was anything to go by, and didn't he wear a helmet usually to prevent that kind of thing? ...where was his helmet? He was certain he'd been wearing it when he… did whatever it was he'd been doing before ending up here. Wherever here was. Maybe he should open his eyes.

A low, unhappy sounding moan to his left confirmed his decision, though when he blinked, for some reason the first thing he became aware of beside the throbbing of his head was a peculiar and persistent ache in his shoulders. That probably had little to do with his helmet. As his eyes adjusted to the gloom around him, he made out a distinctly familiar figure somewhere across of where he was located. Natasha? ...Natasha. Sitting with her back to a wall, her hands tied up above her heads with chains in an obviously uncomfortable position, and already looking profoundly surly despite the fact that she seemed about as awake as Steve felt. Well. If he could draw any conclusions from her position to his own, then it certainly explained the aching shoulders. Steve felt a similarly surly expression take over his own features.

An experimental flexing of his arms brought forth a tingling feeling that soon evolved into a piercing and very unpleasant prickle. At least he could still somewhat feel his fingers, so they hadn't died yet from lack of blood circulation. Good to know. To distract himself, he strained his eyes a little and looked around.

They were all there, the six of them, each with their arms chained to the wall of a small, rectangular room with dark, smooth walls and little else beside their shackles. Directly to his left sat Bruce, who seemed awake but strangely absent, mumbling to himself. His clothes were intact; apparently he hadn't even had time to hulk out before… it… happened. Steve felt a twinge of alarm at that, something that probably should have happened earlier. His eyes slid to a corner, and the next wall showed nothing except a door which looked pretty stable, as far as he could tell. Next corner, next wall, and there was Tony who was making soft little noises, just waking up himself. Right next to him Natasha. Her eyes were sharp again, and she was currently giving Steve a meaningful look without him having any clue _what_ its meaning might be, but considering she had yet to open her mouth and say something, he simply assumed it had to do with staying quiet. He and Natasha both sat at opposite corners adjacent to the last wall, which held Clint (apparently wide awake and in a horrible mood) and Thor. Clint's feet almost touched Natasha's. Thor's did touch Steve's. Cosy.

Tony was the last to wake up. He took a few seconds to look around the room, just as Steve had, taking everything in with a furrowed brow – now windows, dark walls made from some kind of metal, a heavy looking door, and a single, naked light bulb hanging from the ceiling, giving of a dim light. Every so often, it flickered faintly.

“If there's any ghosts in here or stuff, please tell me one of us here has a secret identity as a Ghostbuster.” Tony's voice sounded hoarse and anything but pleased, but before he could go on and complain about it, Natasha made a hissing sound and threw him a look that by all right should have melted his armour right off his body, had he still been wearing it. Tony's mouth clicked shut and he rolled his eyes.

Natasha averted her gaze again, glancing at Steve with a raised eyebrow. Then she shifted a little as if to find a more comfortable position, her legs scraping over the floor. Steve doubted it would help much.

He wished he could talk, but even though he couldn't see any, he was certain that the room had microphones, maybe even cameras. Every plan they would make, every word they said would be overheard and analysed by their captors, whoever they were, and therefore made impossible from the start. They could think to themselves, but little more.

Steve hated having to wait for others to make the first move.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Pepper Potts said in her chair with a polite smile fixed on her lips. Her elbows were propped on her knees, hands folded together in front of her, index fingers pointing upwards and tapping softly against each other. If that caused her hands to subtly hint towards the shape of a pistol she might be about to fire, it was definitely incidental. Well, probably. Maybe not actually all that incidental, now that she thought about it.

She only wished she had a real pistol. Not that it would help her much against the two lunatics in front of her who apparently had nothing better to do than bicker in an increasing volume. It might have been entertaining, and she was sorely tempted to join the discussion by just shooting at them for fun, they wouldn't die from it anyway and it would be a marvellous stress release. Unfortunately, they were also currently her only hope at finding out where her personal cluster of daft kids (aka the Avengers, Earth's mightiest heroes) had disappeared to, and _she seriously had no damn time for this._

“Will the two of you kindly SHUT THE HELL UP!” Her hands were now clutching at each other painfully, and her smile a frozen, twisted grimace on her face. Quite possibly it made her look like a raging madwoman, but as it seemed to do the trick, it was hard for her to mind. Loki and the guy in the red and black body suit stared at her, Loki with a contemplating face, the other guy… well, she assumed he was looking at her, for all she knew he had his eyes closed. Who cared. Moving on.

“Thank you. Now that your discussion about fish hooks appears to be settled – Loki. Who is that man, why have you dragged him here, what is going on, do we have a plan, what _is_ the plan since I'm assuming you have one, why aren't we starting to realise the plan yet?” Pepper smiled, her teeth clicking together behind her closed lips for a few moments. “If you don't mind.”

Loki shot a glare at the man's general vicinity and turned to her. “Of course, Ms Potts. This… individual is Wade-”

“Wade Wilson, Ma'am,” he broke in, leaning forward and reaching out his hand to shake hers. He almost fell of the couch in his effort not to have to get up, a sharp contrast to Loki's casual elegance beside him. “I _can_ introduce myself. Though if you know me, probably as 'Deadpool'. Ring a bell?” It did, but only very vaguely.

Although Loki had admirable control over his facial expression and posture, Pepper had the faint impression that he would like to introduce Mr Wilson not to her but instead to a stampede.

“Yes. _Thank you._ ” He folded his hands in his lap and took a deep breath. “As to your remaining questions: I cannot tell precisely what is 'going on', but it is evident that the Avengers have walked into a trap of sorts, or they would long be here again. That is a circumstance that I deem unacceptable, which is why I seek to remedy it.” Pepper, wise woman that she was, did not ask why Loki was so adamant on helping despite the fact that he spent most of his time annoying the hell out of them instead of supporting them. He wasn't openly antagonising them anymore, at least, and in fact did live in the tower a lot of the time. It was weird, but by now nobody commented on it anymore. One got used to it, apparently. And he did help, now and then. “Wilson is here because while I do have a plan, I unfortunately find myself unable to put it into action alone. I am not so asinine as to attempt a rescue on my own, while it undoubtedly is exactly what would be expected of me – who would trust me enough to offer assistance, after all?” He smiled, perfectly disdainfully. “So I had to find someone, and quickly. He was there. And while I admit he is… far from trustworthy or the best possible asset, he will do.”

“I think that was an insult.”

“I assure you, it was.”

“Woah. You're a pissy god. Did I mention I'm actually atheist?”

“I could not possibly care less.”

“Well, I am. You should respect that.”

Loki's fingers curled into each other in a likely painful manner.

“Could you put all that aside for now?” Pepper rubbed a hand over her face. If these two couldn't even stop snarking at each other for five minutes, she didn't understand how they thought they would get anything at all done together, and she was getting really worried by now. “I'd think there's more important things. I don't need all the information, but you obviously need something from me before you start, so get to the goddamn point.”

“He's a mercenary,” Loki told her flatly, which really wasn't all that reassuring to her. “He apparently has a reason for wanting to partake in this, a reason that is not so harmful as to outweigh the advantages, at least as long as he acts according to plan. Which he will, if he knows what's good for him.”

Not reassuring in the slightest, but Pepper grit her teeth and resolved to trust Loki. Or at least, trust that he knew what he was doing. “Alright, fine. So, what do you need from me now?”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

This was absurd. It was absurd and stupid and Tony was so pissed off that it wasn't even funny anymore. This whole “going to a place and then being basically abducted and held somewhere dark and closed-off” already hadn't been funny the first time, and it wasn't any better now.

...well, at least he had a whole merry band of heroes for company. Though he was a little bit disappointed that none of them had done anything to prevent this situation, never mind that neither had he. Unfortunately, he wasn't allowed to talk to them. Natasha would probably find a way to rip out his tongue if he tried again, chained to the wall or not. Though maybe he should, just to provoke her into ripping free from her bonds in a badass way, since then after killing Tony she could proceed to free the others… probably… okay, however interesting that fantasy might be, there were two major flaws in it, one being that it wasn't all that impressively convertible, and the other that Tony, against all odds, did somewhat value his life and wasn't too keen on death by angry Black Widow.

Glancing at her now, he saw that she was staring intently at the opposite wall between Bruce and Steve. That surprised him. He'd have expected some super secret spy sign language communication to go on between her and Clint, but it seemed that – wait. Tony furrowed his brow and tried to take a closer look in as inconspicuous a manner as possible.

Clint's foot was moving. His eyes were half closed, staring listlessly at the floor in front of him, and his toes – did these people have a good reason for stealing their _shoes_ , goddamnit? – were tapping against Natasha's in irregular intervals. Tap, tap, tappidi-tap tap tap… Tony stared, blinked, looked away, tried to see it out of the corner of his eyes and succeeded in worsening his headache and not much more. Crap. Was it spy language? Was it Morse code? It was probably Morse code. Perhaps a specific spy Morse code. Couldn't they click their tongues instead, share with the class? ...probably too obvious. But what those two could do, Tony could do with a hand tied behind his back, no doubt. Figuratively speaking, all of their hands were tied up anyway after all, even if not exactly behind their backs.

Didn't matter.

He fixed his gaze straight ahead, which was definitely not something that would raise suspicion in his situation. Incidentally, it also made him look directly at Bruce. Which was useful. Or, it would be, if Bruce would just maybe look back at him instead of letting his eyes wander unhappily.

After a few minutes of gazing intently, Tony understood that it wasn't working. He needed Bruce' attention for this to work.

When he quietly cleared his throat, it was still loud enough in the still air that, for a moment, all eyes snapped to him. “Sorry,” he mumbled (that could hardly do any harm, could it), but only glanced at the others before blinking twice while looking at Bruce. _Come on, buddy._

Bruce obediently kept his eyes on him, though they flickered away every now and then. Mostly towards the room's corners and ceiling, checking for cameras as if they'd suddenly be more visible if he only looked long enough. If they were even there. The walls were goddamn smooth and monochrome, even the slightest irregularity would have to be visible. Even Tony would have a hard time creating cameras that good and unobtrusive. Except maybe they just didn't see them because it was so freaking gloomy in here. Of course, there was the grid he'd spotted near the floor and pretty much right next to him, and it would be great for hiding a camera behind the ventilation grid because every bad movie villain in existence had probably used that old trick already, but Tony doubted that was the case here. If it was, it was simply retarded, considering that any camera hidden in that spot would catch nothing but a close-up of Tony's right leg and perhaps a bit of blurry Bruce in the background.

Blurry Bruce was looking at him expectantly. Tony's lips twitched. Non-verbal communication between science bros was a given. Took forever, probably even longer than stupid Morse Code which he couldn't for the life of him remember, and always looked like they were having some kind of seizure or just gone mental, but it worked and was precise.

Tony nodded once, barely perceptible, and started. Formed a small O with his lips. Pressed them together into a flat line. Pressed them together again. Another O. Flat line. O. O. O. Pause. O. Line. Line. Line. O. Line. O. Line. Pause. Next letter.

Yes, using binary code as a secret sign language was cumbersome as hell, and by turns forming zeroes and ones with his lips would cause them to cramp at some point, but he understood it, Bruce understood it, and even if there were cameras it would be a while until anyone understood what was going on, and then longer to translate the whole thing. _Suck it, Morse code._

 

~*~*~

 

Natasha started getting a bit of a problem when Steve conveniently didn't notice she was in a conversation with Clint and started blinking at her. Morse Code was great, and she was glad Clint knew it and it was certainly useful that Steve had also learned it during the war, but it was getting a little much. Yes, she was a woman and by all means capable of multitasking, probably better than most, even. But deciphering what someone was tapping against her foot and at the same time reading what someone else was signalling with their eyes, and that while both were also expecting her to respond – just, no.

She had told Clint most of what she knew. Judging by the not all that long time it had taken her headache to disappear, combined with the discomfort in her shoulders, she figured she'd been unconscious for 30 to 45 minutes – long enough to get them to a room/cell and secure them, but by no means long enough to completely change location. Ergo they still were at the base of the HYDRA splinter group they'd wanted to dispatch.

She'd lagged a little behind the others while they searched the rooms. She couldn't say why, in retrospect; perhaps the lack of resistance had seemed suspicious to her, perhaps she'd been distracted – it didn't matter now. Either way it had given her a few seconds so she had seen what happened – more or less. Something had come out of the two ventilation grids at the far end of the room; probably, she thought, triggered automatically after someone crossed a light barrier or something similar, since Tony had done something to the electric system and frozen the camera pictures so nobody could watch them. It had to have been a trap, a set-up, right from the start. Someone had tried to lure them here, and they had fallen for it like rookies. Natasha didn't like things like that. She didn't _fail_. She did not walk into traps set by HYDRA idiots, as a general rule, and that she apparently had done exactly that did nothing to improve her mood.

She had seen the strange greenish mist pour out of the grids and only a second later, Tony, Clint, and Steve had already dropped, too late for her to shout a warning. Bruce was down before he even had a chance to transform, and Thor had followed suit. She remembered how startled she had been, that even those two couldn't resist the effect longer than a few moments. (Tony should have been able to, given that his suit had its own ventilation system, but he'd been careless and left the visor open where it did nothing to help against a narcotic floating in the air for anyone to breathe in.)

Unfortunately, it hadn't helped her much. The gas or whatever it was spread quickly, and it took only seconds until her vision blacked out as well.

_Green? Why green?_ Natasha pointedly looked away from Steve to concentrate on what Clint was signalling her. The question was valid. Green gas to drug them? That sounded like it came right out of a Donald Duck comic instead of real life. Of course, previous to meeting Loki for the first time, she'd have said the same about things like… magic. _Now there's a thought. Green, magic, brings even Hulk and Thor down…_ It wasn't exactly screaming 'Loki', but it was whispering it quietly. _But Loki wouldn't. Would he?_

Natasha knew better than to trust anyone, and especially Loki.  Still, she didn't see the point. If he wanted to get at them, he'd have practically constant opportunities to do so with less trouble. Except he'd promised them to HYDRA? But, no, it didn't add up.

S he pressed her foot against Clint's to tell him to shut up and stop rushing her with his relentless tapping and turned to Steve, who was still watching her patiently. Taking a breath, she started blinking the same things she had tapped to Clint, and tried not to feel like an idiot.

At least she looked less retarded than Bruce and Tony, who were grimacing at each other for communication. She'd inform Thor later too, she decided – the All-Speak would translate for him, and she doubted that many HYDRA members spoke  Esperanto .  For some reason, barely anyone bothered to learn that language.

 

~*~*~ *~*~*~*~

 

Pepper had gotten them the information they needed. She had only vaguely overheard where the Avengers had set off to, but she'd had the JARVIS guy hack into SHIELD to see if they knew more. And lo and behold, Black Widow and Hawkeye each still had a tracker on missions, as it seemed. Not an official one, and not one that got checked regularly, but it gave a feed to one agent's more-or-less private (SHIELD didn't  actually have the word “privacy” in their secret spy dictionaries) laptop. Said agent was out somewhere on a mission, unfortunately, and had no idea that  both  their trackers had stopped giving off information a while ago.  Or, logical information, that is. It would make little sense for two agents slash superheroes to go some place, linger there for fifteen minutes while only minimally moving around, and then suddenly move with breakneck speed back the way they came.

Probably put the trackers on a car or something to confuse whoever would be checking their feed.

Loki had studied the map that JARVIS had put up with narrowed eyes while Wade had glanced at it and then checked out the Potts chick. Loki'd figure out where to go, and one thing had to be said for Tony Stark – he had one hell of a  taste in women .

Of course, perhaps he should have asked how they were to get to the place where the Avengers had supposedly ended up.  This teleporting thing would take some getting used to

B ut that was fine. Or maybe not, depending on which part of his brain he chose to listen to, but right now it had better be fine because Loki was talking and he probably shouldn't piss him off too much. He'd already done a pretty good job with that, after all, and that just by speaking simple truths. Maybe it was a God of Lies thing, a truth allergy of sorts? Hey, it wasn't his fault the original plan had issues. Sure, the new plan had issues too, but-

“Are you listening to me?”

_No, should we be?_ Ah, yes… voices. Much better company than surly Norse gods, and in a much better mood. Less daddy issues too.  _Admittedly, maybe some other issues instead. Or, say, many other issues. Also, some of us have daddy issues, you don't even know our daddies. Always with the assuming._ Shut up.

“Ah… kinda,” Wade said – lied, but whatever. Loki was flexing his hands, and a more reasonable voice informed him that the green misty stuff swirling around his fingers was likely a cause for concern, and _no, we're not here to piss him off._ Well then. “Repeat it again? You're the fishhook bait person now 'cause they'd expect you to come, if anyone,  and if I do the distraction thing then they'd figure you're there and that it's a distraction so the distraction would go south and not work. Right?”

“Indeed.” Loki's voice sounded admirably calm as he made that admission. Wade pushed up his mask a bit to scratch his chin, and was almost disappointed when Loki didn't even blink at the sight of his skin. “I will stage a diversion, draw as many of them to one place as possible.”

“How d'you know you're not drawing them to a place that's too close to where your boyband's kept? Wouldn't that kinda … not be helpful?”

He received a faintly scathing look in response. “Worry not,  _Deadpool._ ”  _Hey, we should totally make him call us 'Mr Pool' or something. 'Mr. Deadpool.' 'Wade McPool.' Thoughts?_ “I have…  _worked_ enough with HYDRA to know this kind of base. They keep relocating their agents, therefore  many of their hideouts have roughly the same structure – otherwise they would have to keep  remembering different room structures and logistics. It would interfere with the planned speed of their missions if the agents kept confusing parts of the buildings because they are used to the rooms being located elsewhere. It is similar to your supermarkets which are usually similarly structured for the customers to swiftly find what they need.”

Yeah, and Loki talking about supermarkets like they were some  fascinating invention was probably the most hilarious shit ever. “ Heh. So you do that and I do my thing.”

Loki had been dealing with him for less than a day and he already had that resigned, long-suffering look on his face that almost everyone else got when they talked to him. That had to be an unlocked achievement. Maybe he'd get a cool upgrade? New bazooka or so? New fighting combo?  _It's not a video game, there are no upgrades here. Pay attention._ Aw, f*ck it.

“I do hope your 'thing' will include some measure of inconspicuousness. If you draw them away from me and back too quickly, it will make our task noticeably riskier.”

“Yah, got it. You go do your mojo, I wait five minutes or so and get in. Fry the cameras for me or something, oh high and mighty Lord God of Magic and Rescue Plans That Suck.” He jumped back after he said it, just in case Loki would attack him, but a rising eyebrow was the only thing that happened. Hallelujah, this guy took offence at practically everything, but when he actually _tried_ to insult him, he barely reacted. What was wrong with his insults? They were great. Great and greatly insulting and Loki could at least pretend to be insulted. Not fair.

“Commonly, prisoners would be dealt with in a room complex near the left external wall of the building, if you look at it from this angle, at about the middle of its length, though none of the rooms would touch the outer wall directly. See yourself inside quietly, do not get distracted and wander off, simply find the rooms and free them. When you have led them outside and not seen me yet, have Thor or the Man of Iron give a signal and I will come. Anything you hope to get out of this, you can discuss with them when we have returned. Understood?”

“Aye aye, Captain!” _He's not the Captain, the Captain's inside somewhere…_ Yeah, right, whatever.

Loki had disappeared, and only ten seconds later Wade heard an explosion somewhere on the right far corner of the building. A moment later, green smoke welled up and thickened, concentrating mostly in one place and writhing around until it had taken the shape of a cloudy, poisonous-looking … dragon?  _Hell yeah._

Five minutes. He'd watch the dragon while waiting. Maybe he could convince Loki to get him a pet dragon somewhere? Magic and dragons and stuff… woah. Loki was Harry Potter.

 

~*~*~ *~*~*~*~

 

Thor listened intently to Natasha, who was speaking rapidly in a language apparently nobody but him understood, judging by their bemused faces. But that didn't matter. Anthony and Bruce seemed to have found a means of communication of their own, while the Lady Natasha, Clint, and Steve blinked and tapped their feet against each other. Thor resolved to learn that particular sign language as soon as possible. As it was, he could do little but listen to Natasha's remarks and questions, and nod or shake his head to transfer his knowledge.

Yes, he understood the concoction that had brought them down had had a green glow to it.

Yes, he did believe it possible that it was magical in nature.

No, he doubted very much that it was Loki's doing. (That one had been confirmed by now.  After what had to have been hours, s omeone had come and taken first Clint, then Tony for questioning, and apparently they had been questioned about Loki. Thor couldn't help but worry for his little brother, despite his own current predicament. He did not doubt his teammates, and so far the interrogations seemed to have been relatively peaceful with only minimal amount of violence, but still – what if someone let something slip by accident, something that led to Loki being harmed? Or, just as  dire, what if Loki followed them and got himself into trouble? He had faith in his brother, but he had also had faith in his own abilities and nonetheless ended up here, on the floor with his arms by now close to numb from being  bound to the wall for so long. Undoubtedly whoever had provided the magical narcotic had as well dabbled with the chains holding him; Thor could almost feel the runes that precluded him from using his strength.)

Lady Natasha switched language in the middle of a sentence, but still none of the others appeared to understand her words. “I think I figured out how they're monitoring us,” she said evenly. “I'm 98% sure there are no cameras, but there are microphones in the fastenings of the chains, and I sure hope none of them speak Chinese because they might have figured out the Esperanto by now. Any idea what Bruce and Tony are babbling about?”

Thor shook his head, glancing at Anthony who looked like his lips were hurting quite severely but still moved them rapidly. He wondered what kind of language this was.

“Okay. Hope they'll find a way to let us know in case they figure anything out. Any idea why Bruce hasn't gone green? He looks lucid and awake, but nothing's happening.”

Thor tilted his head to the side, unsure. He knew how difficult it was to contain Banner's other half, but perhaps…

“Yes?”

He moved his hands, rattling the chains once. Natasha raised her eyebrows. “Magic, you mean?” Thor was not entirely certain how she had figured out that there was magic in his chains, since they had not spoken about that, but he nodded. He  did not really know – he was far from an expert on magical matters, but it was the only possibility that made sense to him.

Natasha nodded thoughtfully. “Clint mentioned something about paper stacks in a corridor he was led through before the interrogation. I hope they'll take me next, perhaps I can get something – a paper clip or a pen, or somehow get one of these ridiculous HYDRA pins they're all wearing… bet we could do something with that. And we should try to figure where our stuff's kept – Tony's suit, and the weapons – Mjölnir is probably still in that hall – and I had such a nice little knife in my shoe, but of course they just  _had_ to strip me basically to underwear.”

Thor couldn't help the little smile that crept over his face at her indignation. All of them were in various stages of undress – the search for hidden weapons must have been very thorough indeed.

She had just returned to furiously tapping Clint's foot when the door flew open once more. Blinking against the light, Thor recognised a man that had been present as a guard both times someone had been taken for questioning before,  only  this time without company but with a piece of cloth in his hands and his eyes narrowed at the Lady Natasha.

“You're talking to much,” he snapped, with a distinct accent that was unrecognisable to Thor. “I don't know if anyone except for the big bad god over here understands a word you're saying, and I'm guessing not since you're the only one talking. But I don't know _what_ you're talking, and I don't like that. So...”

“Hey!” Anthony's voice chimed in, loud and clear and with barely suppressed anger. “She's telling us stories, 'kay? It's boring as fuck in here, and Tasha knows, like, ten thousand books by heart, so piss off and let us have our fun. Hey!”

Thor pressed his lips together as the man advanced, entirely ignoring the tirade from the left. Clint next to him twitched, but ultimately, none of them could stop him from harshly shoving the strip of cloth into her mouth and tying it to a knot at the back of her head. Natasha's eyes gleamed coldly at him, in a way that promised a slow, painful death.

“Anyone else wants to tell a story,” the man said as he sauntered back towards the door, “you tell it to me. Got--?” He interrupted himself to swivel his head around towards where a loud banging sound had originated from. An explosion? Unconsciously, Thor sat up a little straighter, his brow furrowing.

Tony pulled the corners of his mouth downwards and shook his head. “Looks like something's going not as planned,” he muttered, and the guard would probably have silenced him had not in that moment another agent arrived, his eyes darting around uneasily while he spoke in a low voice.

“He's coming, it worked,” Thor made out, and his heart turned to lead in his chest. “I gotta go, I'm on defence duty – you stay here and guard them, the others are at the ends of the corridor, but he won't get through anyway. Just watch out they won't try anything funny!”

With that, he disappeared.

The other man turned towards them with a grin. “Lucky you – we might not need info from you anymore. Not on as many things, that is.” He closed the door and leaned against it casually, then took a gun from his belt and fiddled with it. “Thor's gonna get lucky, though.”

Thor suppressed the urge to demand answers as to what he was talking about. He would not rise to the bait, clumsy and unrefined as it was. He saw Bruce roll his eyes at Anthony.

For the next few minutes, nothing happened. Their guard fidgeted a little, but they could not hear anything – with the door closed, the cell was sound-proof once more.

Until someone knocked at the door – quite vigorously, Thor thought, to make himself heard through the thick material. The guard frowned, turned, turned the key in the lock and pulled the door open just a little bit, peering through the crack with his gun at the ready.

A second later, the door was thrown violently open, knocking the guard straight on his back. His weapon fired, once, the bullet ricochetting off the ceiling and, thankfully, out through the open door instead of hitting someone. A black and red figure slipped in and was squatting over the guard within seconds, knocking his head against the floor a few times for good measure before straightening and turning to take them in.

Thor remembered him, vaguely, and thought he heard Clint groan next to him. It decidedly was not who he would have expected. Black and red suit with a full mask that obscured his expression, though he somehow did give the expression of someone grinning widely. Two swords, usually secured on his back, now one in his hand and dripping with blood.  And, if he recalled correctly, an entirely inappropriate and mostly incomprehensible sense of humour.

“Deadpool,” Tony muttered, sounding altogether too annoyed for the circumstances.

Deadpool pushed up his mask, revealing a horribly scarred face, and beamed at them while rummaging in one of his belt's bags and pulling out a greasy looking object wrapped in paper. “Chimichanga, anyone?”

 

~*~*~ *~*~*~*~

 

They were all sitting around a big table in one of the tower's living room. (Tony had declared the official Avengers floor as well as his own floor off limits as long as Deadpool was present, and he had sulkily acquiesced.)

“So,” Pepper began, twirling the cheap chopsticks of Chinese take-out restaurants between her fingers. “I can see that whatever plan you two ultimately agreed on seems to have worked, but can anyone tell me what's happened?”

“We walked into a trap,” Steve spoke up, when it became clear that most of them were too immersed in their food to answer a lady's question. Or, in Loki's case, too immersed in glaring at Deadpool irritatedly while Deadpool happily ignored him and eyed, by turns, Pepper and Natasha since he definitely lacked any sense of self-preservation. “Apparently, this particular HYDRA cell had an axe to grind with Loki, something about him having betrayed them in the past…?” Steve glanced at Thor's little brother to see if he'd object to the explanation, but he didn't even appear to be listening. “Yeah. Well, seems they figured that since Loki isn't usually with us on missions, he's too unpredictable to get a hold of on his own,” Loki looked faintly pleased at that, “so they decided to trap the rest of us instead, hoping he'd have enough of an ally status to try and bust us out.”

“Which he did,” Bruce said with one of his little half-smiles, setting aside his chopsticks and an empty box of noodles. “Only he didn't do it according to their plan, so...”

“Guess he's not known as the God of Chaos for nothing,” Natasha murmured, earning herself an exasperated look from Clint who already had enough of people singing Loki's praises.

“How did _you_ guys even get yourselves captured in the first place?” Pepper asked lightly, at which the whole group of Avengers grimaced and Deadpool giggled.

“It was a trap right from the start,” Clint sighed, reclining in the couch and pulling a face. “The whole mission was basically a set-up, they let us find their stupid base on purpose and then just waited for us to show up. Did HYDRA things in between so it would be realistic and let us see just enough that we'd bite… and, I mean, it's a tiny HYDRA splinter base, we've stopped asking SHIELD for permission with things like this ages ago, so no trackers and nothing. Long story short, we showed up, searched the base, and triggered some automatism in that one hall which released some gas stuff that downed us practically instantly.”

“Even Dr Banner? And Thor?”

“It was magical in nature.” Loki wore an expression of profound distaste. “This particular group had managed to make contact with Amora, or perhaps it was she who initiated their collaboration, I do not know. She helped them manufacture this particular brand of narcotic, as well as specific sets of chains engraved with runes that would make sure that things like Thor's strength and the Hulk's power would be repressed – at least temporarily. Had HYDRA tried to hold them for longer than a day or two, they might have experienced an unpleasant surprise.” He smirked nastily. “Their end of the bargain would have been to deliver Thor to her as soon as they had me.” Loki shrugged, looking bored, and took a bite of chicken from his box, obviously unwilling to elaborate further.

Natasha was just opening her mouth when, of course, Wade interrupted. He had pushed his mask up just enough to expose his mouth and nose and was speaking around a mouthful of rice. “So Loki here pretended to do exactly what they expected – blew up half of their main entry, set a smoky dragon on them which sent a lot of them panicking which is actually really embarrassing, and, well, all in all made a huge fuss over nothing to get them away from where the actual rescue thing should happen.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Don't look so smug about it over there, we were just in the process of planning our escape.” Wade snorted, but Tony talked right over him. “So from what I was told, Nutty McNutjob here basically barged in and, uh… got pretty much rid of everyone he saw, judging by the state of his sword thing...” Tony looked like he was trying very hard to  look like he was sorry about the dead HYDRA agents, but had a hard time being anywhere near convincing and finally gave up. “And then he stormed our cell, knocked the guard against the floor, and asked if anyone wanted chimithingies. Which, hey, as far as style goes – could be worse.”

Pepper rolled her eyes but nodded, puzzling the picture together in her head. “And Loki – you were still keeping the others away?”

Tony snorted quietly, and Wade's mouth did something funny. Loki glared at both of them. “Well, seeing as  _someone_ forgot to give me a sign when they were ready… I came to make sure he had not ruined it all after I had… disposed of the attacking agents. Before you try to accuse me of anything, Ms Potts, no, I did not kill any more than necessary. Most of them should have arrived in SHIELD custody by now. At any rate, I returned to the other side of the building to discover this motley crew here standing around and fighting heatedly about whether or not  the dear Avengers would have been able to deal with the situation on their own,  _which was entirely beside the point at that moment._ ”

“Well, we're all here,” Natasha shrugged, and though she did look a little disgruntled, she had obviously accepted the situation as it was for now. “So, thanks for getting us out. Which, actually – one question.” She cocked her head at Wade. “What did you help us for?”

Wade looked up from where he'd been polishing his sword with a napkin, or rather, trying to. All he really succeeded in was ripping the napkin to shreds and spreading confetti on the floor. Now he set the sword aside, a grin spreading on his face that was just full of foreboding.

“Ah, of course, now that you're asking...” he said, voice solemn. “Anyone interested in talking to me about the Avengers Initiative?”

**Author's Note:**

> According to the Marvel Movies Wiki, Natasha “is fluent in Latin, Russian, English, French, German, Chinese, and various other languages.” I decided she speaks Esperanto.  
> http://marvel-movies.wikia.com/wiki/Natalia_Romanoff


End file.
